First night
by gellamc
Summary: What happens after the memorial service? B&B  First fan fic ever


She slips her arm through his, after a somewhat lengthy debate about whether or not it was appropriate, or wise. "What if he's changed his mind, what if it was the crazy mix of emotions brought about by the day's events that had been talking last night and not him?", she thought. She was ready to panic, and felt embarrassment rise into her cheeks when he didn't move his hand from his pocket right away. It reminded her of how they'd left the Hoover that night so many months ago now-with her confused and wanting to be close but not knowing how and with him immediately trying to put distance between them. She began to fear that it was happening again and was just about to move her arm, step away and attempt to save face, when she felt his hand move. It moved up to find hers, his fingers entwining with hers, except for his thumb, which lightly rubbed against the skin of her hand. He looked around, and seeing everyone was far ahead of them, leaned in and kissed her temple. Her heart fluttered-he WAS still here. He was alive, yes, but more than that he seemed to still mean everything he'd said the night before. "I'm ready to go home whenever you are", he whispered into her ear as he pulled back. His breath touched her face, sending goosebumps up her neck. Temperance surprised herself, having never responded so…viscerally to anyone or anything, except maybe when her life was in danger. She found herself excited? And maybe something else…scared? She couldn't quite pinpoint it, naming her own emotions had never been her thing. She tried to act cool "let me just go get my things from my office and I'll meet you outside", she said. He squeezed her hand, a smile tickling the corners of his mouth as he gave her a quick, sideways look before turning on his heel and walking toward the others.

She felt her cheeks burn…"get it together Brennan", she thought, as she hurried toward her office. She had no idea what to expect tonight, this was unchartered territory. Not only did she lack a reference for beginning or being in an actual romantic relationship, she realized, even with her limited knowledge, that their way up until now was probably not the usual way of going about it. Though, what had ever been "normal" about her? Or them, for that matter. She smiled to herself. "This is ours", she thought, remembering Booth's words. Then she remembered his words from the night before.

She had told him she was so scared…it could have been him that was shot, it still could, if Broadsky got to him before he got to Broadsky. He had told her he wasn't going anywhere. She had tried to refute his claim, arguing about lack of evidence and the inability to speak in absolutes, even when there is ample evidence to support a hypothesis, but he had shushed her. "I will never leave you Temperance", he'd said, then continued "I can't, because…this is our chance. If I don't come back, we'll both miss it again", and then "I love you". He'd pulled her chip up, looked at her in a way much different than ever before. She remembered how she'd been breathless, and when she finally remembered how to breath again the words came out in an exhale, almost inaudible. "I love you too". And then their lips brushed, she had trembled but he'd held her closer, placed his forehead on hers. He had admitted that his paper had said "tomorrow", because even though he'd told her to write down when she thought the date would be, he'd written down when he _wanted_ it to be. But it was perfect, he'd noted, since "tomorrow", he'd assured her, "when this thing with Broadsky is over, that will be our chance…if you want it". "Yes!" she had almost shouted, rising up a little from her position on her side "yes!", and then he'd said "good, now rest", before pulling her back down to him and holding her close the rest of the night.

She smiled again, remembering. She noted Angela looking at her, mouthing "call me!" and grinning. As she walked out to where Booth was waiting with the car she noticed he was standing next to her door, holding it open. She began to open her mouth to argue about how she didn't need him to open her door thankyouverymuch, but stopped herself. "The new Brennan", she thought, "isn't going to be so scared of the good things anymore", and so she stepped in the car, saying "thank you" in a shaky voice that she hoped didn't betray her. He shut the door but then leaned in the window towards her. "I'm nervous too", he said. "But happy". He got in on his side and shut the door. "My place?" he asked. "You know, because I have a TV and all, that is what you wanted to do, right?". She laughed at his joke, surprising herself that she got it and didn't argue. She was also surprised when she realized the tension had melted away some, just knowing they could still joke around. "Yes, that would be perfect", she announced, in her most sarcastic voice, "as there is a documentary about upper class married women living in Atlanta that I would like to see this evening, quite anthropologically interesting really". She looked at him in the way she always did when she thought she was making some clever joke that displayed her knowledge of pop culture. He just reached over and touched her face, a smile on his. "Well, then my place it is", he said.


End file.
